The Beauty of Darkness (52 page)

Berdi and I were the first to arrive in the dining room, and when she hugged me, I got a warm whiff of fresh bread and saw a dusting of flour on her cheek. “Have you been in the kitchen?”

She winked. “I may have stopped in. Your mother asked, and I was happy to oblige.” I was about to ask her what she had been doing there when Gwyneth and Natiya walked in behind us. Natiya's gaze immediately rose to the high ceiling and then she surveyed the tapestry-covered walls. I remembered the first time I had ever dined with Natiya. She'd met my gluttony with wide-eyed innocence and questions. Now she observed quietly with the eye of a cat in the bushes, ready to leap, not unlike the rest of us. We all wore weapons to the table, which in the past would have been forbidden by protocol. Tonight no one would object, not even Aunt Cloris.

We settled at one end of the table.

My mother and aunts, and Pauline's aunt, Lady Adele, came in next. My mother's hair was combed and braided, her dress neatly pressed, and the fire in her that had been buried these past days had surfaced again. I saw it in her eyes, her level shoulders, and high chin—the traitors would not win. I was surprised to see her chatting with Berdi like they were old friends.

Orrin, Tavish, Jeb, and Kaden strolled in together, all of them looking slightly uncomfortable, but my mother greeted them warmly and directed them to seats, and I realized how little all of them really knew everyone else, though we had been here for days. We did need to knit together. A shared meal was for more than nourishing bodies. Servants began filling goblets with ale and wine. Though my mother had promised to keep the fare simple, the sparkling cherry muscat was the exception.

“Where's Pauline?” I asked Gwyneth.

Lady Adele heard my question and perked up, waiting for an answer too. I knew that after their clash on our first night here, Pauline had avoided her. That was why she stayed at the abbey with the baby. Today she had moved back.

“She had to go to the abbey to pick something up,” Gwyneth answered. Of course, we both knew what that something was. “She'll be here soon,” she added, but when Lady Adele looked away, Gwyneth shrugged as if she too, was uncertain what was delaying Pauline, or if she would come at all.

Sven walked in with Captain Azia, and I was surprised to see them both dressed in officer's uniforms. Captain Azia blushed at the fawning of my aunts, and I realized how young he truly was. He and Sven quickly became engaged in conversation with them and Lady Adele. I wondered what had happened to Rafe. I sipped my muscat and then I heard his footsteps. I knew them as well as my own, the weight, the pace, the slight jingle of his scabbard. He hurried in and paused in the doorway, his hair slightly windblown, dressed in his Dalbretch blues too. My stomach squeezed against my will. He apologized for being late—he'd been stuck in talks with some of his men. He greeted my mother with additional apologies, then turned to me. He noticed my sling.

“The physician said it would help reduce the swelling,” I explained.

He looked at the sling, back at me, at the sling again, and I knew he was searching for words while others swirled in his head. I knew his tics, his pauses, his breaths. Would his betrothed ever know him as well?

“I'm glad you're following his advice,” he finally said.

It was only a few spare words, but everyone had paused from their own conversations to watch us. He turned and took his seat at the opposite end of the table.

Before the first course was brought in, my mother turned to me. “Lia, would you like to offer a remembrance?” It was more than simple politeness. It was her recognition of the position I now held.

Memory tugged behind my sternum, and I stood.
An acknowledgment of sacrifice.
But there was no plate of bones to lift. I said some of the words only to myself, others for all to hear.

E cristav unter quiannad.

“A sacrifice ever remembered.”

Meunter ijotande.

“Never forgotten.”

Yaveen hal an ziadre.

“We live another day. And with it, may the heavens grant us wisdom.
Paviamma.
”

Only Kaden echoed back
paviamma
to me.

My mother looked at me uncertainly. It was not a traditional prayer. “Is that a Vendan prayer?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “And part Morrighese prayer.”

“But that last word?” Lady Adele asked. “Paveem?”

“
Paviamma
,” I said. My throat tightened unexpectedly.

“It's a Vendan word,” Rafe answered. “It can mean many things, depending on how it's said. Friendship, forgiveness, love.”

“You know the language, Your Majesty?” my mother asked.

He kept his eyes averted from mine. “Not as well as the princess, and of course, Kaden, but I know enough to get by.”

My mother's gaze shifted to Kaden and then to me. I saw the worry in her eyes. A Vendan language, a Vendan Assassin seated at our table, a Vendan prayer, and Kaden's lone response to it. He and I shared far more than just an escape from Venda.

Sven seemed to notice my mother's pause and jumped in, saying how he had learned Vendan after being a prisoner in a mine for two years with a fellow named Falgriz. “A beast of a man, but he helped keep me alive.” He entertained everyone with a colorful story, and I was grateful to him for drawing the attention away from me. My aunts were spellbound by the daring account of his escape. Tavish rolled his eyes as if he'd heard the story before—many times over.

The first course was served—a cheese dumpling.

Comfort food. I looked up at my mother, and she smiled. It was what she served whenever I or my brothers weren't feeling well. I was grateful she hadn't gone to great lengths to impress King Jaxon. In light of everything that had transpired, a simple meal seemed the most appropriate.

When my mother inquired about the Valsprey, Sven told her the message had surely arrived at the outpost by now but we wouldn't hear anything back. He explained it was a one-way message only that we had to keep our hopes in.

“Then we shall keep that hope,” Aunt Bernette said, “and be grateful to all of you for providing it.”

My mother lifted her glass and offered a toast to Rafe, his soldiers, the Valsprey, and even for the colonel who would receive the message and help her sons. A rally of toasts followed, circling the table and offering gratitude to all those present who helped uncover the conspiracy.

My chest warmed with my many sips of muscat, and a server stepped in to refill my goblet.

“And to you, Kaden,” my mother said. “I'm so very sorry for how you were betrayed by one of our own, and doubly thankful you are helping us now.”

“A Morrighese son, returned home,” Aunt Cloris said, lifting her glass.

I watched Kaden squirm at the assumption that he was no longer Vendan, but he nodded, trying to accept the acknowledgment with grace.

“And to—” I lifted my glass, trying to divert the attention from him. Heads turned my way as everyone waited to hear who or what I toasted. I looked at Rafe. It was as if he knew what I was going to say before I did. The blue ice of his eyes drilled into mine. We had to get past this.
Regroup, move forward. It's what a good soldier does.

I swallowed. “I'd like to offer congratulations to King Jaxon on his upcoming marriage. To you and your bride—I wish you a long and very happy life together.”

Rafe didn't move, didn't nod, didn't say anything. Sven lifted his glass and elbowed Tavish to do the same, and soon a flurry of good wishes rippled around the table. Rafe threw back the rest of his wine and said a quiet “thank you.”

My throat was suddenly sand and I realized I didn't truly wish them well at all and I felt small and petty and an ache bloomed in my chest. I gulped down my drink, draining my goblet.

And then we heard more footsteps.

Small, hesitant, the soft tap of slippers on stone.

Pauline.

Heads turned toward the door expectantly. But then the soft sound mysteriously stopped. Lady Adele's brows pulled down. “Maybe I—”

Kaden pushed back his chair and stood. “Excuse me,” he said, and with no further explanation, he left the room.

 

CHAPTE
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SEVE
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TY-SEVE
N

KADEN

She was sitting on a bench in the shadows of an arched passageway, the baby in her arms, her gaze lost in some distant world. Her long honey locks were neatly tucked into a netted cap, her dress reserved and buttoned, every stitch and line of it conveying propriety.

She didn't look up as I approached. I stopped, my knees almost grazing hers.

Her gaze remained fixed on her lap. “I was on my way,” she said, “and then I realized, he doesn't have a name. I can't go in there without a name. You said it yourself, I need to give him a name.”

I bent down on one knee, and lifted her chin to meet my gaze. “Pauline, it doesn't matter what I say or what anyone in there thinks. You choose a name when you're ready.”

She studied me. Her eyes traveled over every inch of my face, her gaze restless and afraid. “I thought he loved me, Kaden. I thought I loved him. I'm afraid of making wrong choices again.” She swallowed and her restless search stopped, her gaze settling into mine. “Even when a choice feels so completely right.”

I couldn't look away. My breath was suddenly trapped in my chest, and I was afraid of making wrong choices too. All I could see were her lips, her eyes, everywhere, only Pauline.

“Kaden,” she whispered.

My breath finally rattled free. “I guess if a choice feels right, maybe it's best to test it first,” I said, “take it slowly, see if it can become something more … something you can be sure of.”

She nodded. “That's what I want. Something more.”

That was what I wanted too.

I stood. “I'll go in first. I'll tell them you'll be along.”

*   *   *

I returned to the dining room just as the next course was being served—Berdi's fish stew. Lia had risen and walked around the table to kiss her cheek and tell her how many times she had dreamed of every morsel, every scent, every taste that was Berdi's stew. I knew as soon as I caught the scent, that yes, it was better than Enzo's, but then I asked everyone to hold off for just a moment. “I think I saw Pauline coming down the hallway. She should be here any moment.”

And in only seconds, she walked in. She paused, standing in the arch of the doorway, her cap pulled loose, the blanket drawn back from the baby's head so his blond wisps showed and his little fist was free to stretch in the air.

“Hello, everyone. I'm sorry I'm late. The baby had to be fed.”

Silverware clattered somewhere in the room.

“The baby?” Lady Adele said.

“Yes, Aunt,” Pauline answered. She cleared her throat, then lifted her chin. “This is my son. Would you like to see him?”

Silence vibrated through the room. Lady Adele's mouth hung open. “How is it possible for you to have a son?” she finally asked.

Pauline shrugged. “Oh, I got him in much the usual way.”

Her aunt looked at me and my white-blond hair and then back at the baby. I saw the assumption she was making, and I was about to correct her, but then I said nothing. I would leave that to Pauline.

The baby broke the silence with a loud wail.

“Bring him here,” Berdi said holding her arms out. “I know how to rock that sweet potato so he—”

“No,” Lady Adele said. “Let me see the child. Does he have a name?”

Pauline crossed the room. “Not yet,” she said as she laid the baby in her aunt's arms. “I'm still trying to find the right one.”

Lady Adele patted, jiggled, and shushed the baby, and he quieted. She looked up at Pauline, her eyes blinking, her hand still patting, and it seemed, her mind spinning. “Finding a name isn't so hard,” she finally said. “We'll help you. Now go sit, your stew is getting cold. I'll hold him while you eat.”

 

CHAPTE
R
SEVE
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TY-EIGHT

Even through the closed balcony doors, I could hear the laughter in the dining room. It was a good thing. A rare thing. It was momentary, I knew. The worry would close in again, but for a few hours, it was a blessed saving grace from the cares that gripped us. Names for the baby had been bantered around the table. Orrin offered up his own name several times, but most of the names were drawn from revered historical lines in Morrighan. When Kaden suggested Rhys, saying that a name that had no Morrighese history to live up to might signify a fresh start, Pauline agreed and it was settled. The baby was named Rhys.

I had waited for at least five minutes after Rafe left to excuse myself. I didn't want anyone to think his departure hastened my own—but it had. The room suddenly grew hot, and I needed air. He had never spoken or looked at me again after my toast, which shouldn't have bothered me. There were so many at the table, so many conversations, and we were … nothing. At least nothing more than two leaders working together to find answers.

I heard the door open behind me, the conversations from the dining room growing briefly louder, then muffled again as the door clicked shut.

“Mind if I join you?” Sven asked.

I waved to the balcony rail beside me, though I really didn't want any company. “Please do.”

This wing of the citadelle looked out on the forested hills—the same ones Pauline and I had disappeared into months ago. The tops of the trees were a black jagged edge against the starlit sky.

Sven stared out into what was mostly darkness. “You're not cold out here?” he finally asked.

“What's on your mind, Sven? It's not the goose bumps on my arms.”

“I was surprised you offered a toast to the king's betrothal.”